


Ornament

by fennishjournal (Shimi)



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Bisexuality, Blow Jobs, F/M, Friendship/Love, Home, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 18:25:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shimi/pseuds/fennishjournal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set at the beginning of CROO, when Holmes shows up at the Watsons' house in the middle of the night and stays. Only, in this version, he ends up in John and Mary's bed rather than his own bachelor quarters....</p><p>Shameless fluffy porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ornament

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by he lovely lostgirlslair and dedicated to the wonderful members of the Sherlock Holmes Book Club who keep urging me on whenever the plotbunnies bite!

“The ornament of a house is the friends who frequent it.”  
― Ralph Waldo Emerson

 

 

“ _...and meanwhile I should be the criminal myself if I kept you out of bed any longer."_

 

My friend smiled as he uttered these words, well knowing that he had in the past been the cause of a lack of sleep much more severe than the one currently threatening my health. I looked at him fondly for a moment, inexplicably happy to see him here in my own home where he seemed to fit like an oyster into its shell.

 

“Yes,” I said, “yes, indeed, we should go to bed now if we are to be at Aldershot tomorrow.”

 

We made our way upstairs and I found it difficult, in the warm, flickering light of the candle illuminating our way, not to notice the peculiar, cat-like grace with which Holmes climbed the stairs in front of me.

 

“My dear fellow,” I said on an impulse when we had reached the top landing on which opened the doors of both the bedroom and the bachelor's room I had begun to think of as Holmes', “it is rather a cold night and as we were not expecting you, I haven't had a fire lit in your room. Won't you join us for the night?”

 

It was a pretext, of course, but at this stage of our relationship I still felt the need for such subterfuge. Too fresh and eccentric was this arrangement between the three of us. Holmes hesitated for a moment and I began to grow afraid that he would decline my invitation as he sometimes did at this time, out of misplaced concern over disturbing the intimacy of us newly-weds. Then, however, with a sigh that was so faint I should have missed it had I not been standing close enough to feel his breath whistle past my cheek, he closed his eyes, nodded, and followed me into the bedroom.

 

Here, Mary had banked the fire before going to bed but the glow of the embers gave us light enough to disrobe in silence. My wife is a surpassingly accommodating woman in almost every respect but she heartily dislikes being woken unnecessarily and is not above voicing her objection in a most strident and cutting manner if so disturbed. As I was folding my shirt and setting aside my shoes, I kept catching glimpses of Holmes' pale skin and angular bones, all of which seemed as precious as Meissen porcelain to me under the play of shadows.

 

When he made his way to the wardrobe, no doubt to take out one of my nightshirts as he is wont to do, a lean figure with a thin, nervous kind of elegance that will forever remind me of a thoroughbred, I caught him around the waist and pulled him into a kiss.

 

Holmes kisses as the snake strikes: quick, darting and making abundant use of his teeth. It is a magnificent experience and while I revelled in the momentary sensation of my mouth being taken in such manner, I reciprocated by letting my hand wander down to the small of his back and pulling him flush against my chest.

 

At last he broke away from me, taking a step backwards, though not without a lingering touch of his hand on my arm. “We'd better stop,” he murmured, eyes half closed with desire and rueful amusement, his voice even darker than usual, “or else, I'm afraid, my self-control will desert me.”

 

Oh, how I wanted to rush him there and then, how I wanted to kiss him senseless and touch him to my heart's content, wringing from him the breathy moans and surprised little sounds he only makes in the throes of passion. But I knew full well that our ability to remain silent while engaged in such pursuits was sadly deficient and Mary had made it abundantly clear that she did not enjoy being woken from a good night's sleep by our intercourse.

 

And so it was with my prick at half-mast and my body still pleasantly warm from our embrace that I finished undressing and slipped into bed next to my wife. Mary, who in sleep always looks as fresh and as sweet as a briar-rose to me, gave a little sigh at this invasion and curled herself around me with the trust and abandon that still makes my heart stop for the interminable second it takes for me to realise that this wondrous and dear creature is all mine. (That I am all hers is a truth I breathe every day.)

 

After his customarily fastidious evening ablutions, Holmes joined us, folding his long limbs in between the linens. The bed is somewhat of a tight fit for the three of us but I have to admit that I have always relished the physical closeness it engenders. In the end, I lay on my side with the warm weight of my wife's body pressed against my spine and my forehead resting against my friend's shoulder. Holmes never sleeps unless he is able to lie on his back with his limbs stretched out and as straight as a ruler, but I have slept in military camps and on rough terrain and demand nothing more than some degree of horizontality for my rest.

 

Just as I was about to surrender myself to Morpheus' arms, I felt a a kiss being pressed upon my forehead, as light as the touch of a moth's wing and I believe a smile stayed on my lips for the whole of the rather short night.

 

 

 

When I woke up, I found my face buried in a manly chest, my friend's lithe and graceful limbs pressed against my own, hot under the soft linen of the gown. Holmes had slung an arm over me in his sleep and one of his thighs had found its way between my own. As Mary was still snug against my back, I rather felt like a sardine, albeit a very happy one. After all, there are few things so comforting and lovely as waking up to the gentle murmur of voices caused by one's lovers attempting to have a spirited debate without raising their voices.

 

“No, no, my dear,” Holmes' deep voice rumbled against my ear, “her friend made it clear that she had no knowledge of any quarrel between the Barclays.”

 

Mary's laugh against my shoulder tickled my hair as she replied with the gentle humour she reserves for our dear friend: “Oh Holmes, there are some things a woman _knows_. I should be very surprised indeed if the young lady isn't precisely the person you should be talking to.”

 

“Why,” I muttered against the warm fabric of Holmes' nightshirt, which still smelled faintly of the lavender Mary has the maid put among our linens, “is it that out of all Englishmen and women I had to fall in love with the two who will discuss criminal activities before their early morning tea?”

 

There was a momentary silence and then Holmes said in a voice that was full of amusement and affection: “I see you have decided to join us in the land of the living at last. However did you survive in the army with a sleep as sound as yours? Did you know, Mary, that when we were still rooming together I regularly had to resort to tickling his feet in order to wake him if a case should demand it?”

 

I snorted and replied, still with my eyes closed and speaking against his chest: “First of all, they have _alarms_ in the army and second of all I should never have survived sharing a flat with you if I didn't have the ability to ignore disturbances, be they violin music or minor explosions.”

 

“Tickling his feet? Really, Holmes!” Mary's tone implied she was quite scandalised by the notion but I could feel her smile against my neck. “That seems quite unnecessary, considering how many much more pleasant ways there are to rouse him.”

 

The double meaning of her words seemed to be intentional, as her hand started to stroke up and down my side, sliding lower and lower at each pass, until she reached the hem of my nightgown and slipped her fingers under it. The touch of her hand against my leg was gentle and almost innocent, her cool fingers simply splayed across my skin and resting there for a moment. At the same time, the secretive and illicit way her hand kept creeping upwards made my prick stir with interest.

 

There is something debauched to being touched with the clear intention to arouse while someone else is in the same room, let alone the same bed. Mary knew full well how much it excited me to have Holmes as a witness and occasional participant of our lovemaking and was evidently using the situation to all of our advantage.

 

With a sigh, I reached behind me to touch her through the thin fabric of her nightdress and as her nimble little fingers reached my groin I finally gave in to my impulse to roll over and pull her against me so that we were front to front. She made an excited little gasp as I reached up to gently tease her nipples through the soft cotton and her mouth against mine opened willingly as I leaned down to press my lips against hers. She arched against me as I continued to roll the tightening points of her nipples between my fingers while I explored her mouth with my tongue. At the same time, she began to move her fingers over my testicles in a teasing motion that made me quite wild, as she kept evading my prick, knowing full well that this was where I was longing most intensely for her touch. I slipped my leg between hers to feel her growing dampness and to give her the opportunity to clench her thighs around it as she likes to do in her arousal.

 

There was a rustling behind me and I felt Holmes move up and close until he was quite plastered to my back, the hot line of his erection pressing against my buttocks in a way that was more than a little suggestive. I pressed back against him, pulling Mary with me, and he began to lick and nip at the sensitive flesh in the crook of my neck, exciting my skin into shivers. I closed my eyes for a moment, relishing the feeling of being trapped between two hot and excited bodies and let myself flow into a rhythm between the two of them. Mary was gasping against my ear, my thigh by now slick with her wetness as she rubbed herself against me in a circling motion, and Holmes was panting behind me, thrusting against my arse.

 

I opened my eyes again so I could pull back a little and admire Mary's flushed complexion and the way her blue eyes were dancing with mischief when she did not close them in ecstasy. Her hair was coming out of its braid, soft, curly strands clinging to her forehead, giving her a wild and untamed aspect that excited me further. She smiled at me and then finally closed her hand around me. I threw my head back against Holmes' shoulder and groaned at the sweetness of her deft touch. When I had recovered a little from this first shock, I, in turn, reached out to hike up her nightdress so I could rub my fingers along the slippery folds of her labia, searching for the smooth, sensitive nub of her clitoris. She gasped as I found it and began to circle the tip of my thumb around it while slipping my index finger into the tight, wet heat of her (a trick, I will freely admit, it had taken me several weeks to perfect).

 

She clung to my shoulders, shivering and moaning freely and I was suddenly seized by a fierce desire to possess and dominate. Moving out of Holmes embrace, I pushed her onto her back and pressed her shoulders to the bed, where I held her as I kissed her deeply. Moving my mouth down to bite at the sensitive skin of her breasts where I could reach them through the neckline of her nightdress, I delighted in her gasps of pleasure-pain, which only intensified when I rubbed the rough stubble of my cheek against the tight points of her erect nipples. Keeping one hand occupied with pinching and teasing one of her nipples, I returned my right to its place between her legs and entered her again. By now, Mary was splayed on her back, her fingers clenching the linens as she rolled her head back and forth, gasping at the ceiling open-mouthed and with her eyes closed. It was a singularly erotic sight.

 

As I rhythmically rubbed her clitoris while plunging in and out of her channel with my finger, she moaned and arched. I adjusted my angle and when I reached with my free hand to lightly squeeze her breast in the same rhythm, she clenched around my fingers deliciously with a high, needy sound that drove me quite wild.

 

Holmes behind me had moved away and around the bed, where he was now settling himself on Mary's other side. He reached out to minister to the breast I was lacking a third hand for and then leaned down to tease the lobe of her ear with her lips.

 

“Oh God,” Mary panted out as I managed to slip in a second finger, crooking it just right, “John, I swear to God, if you don't enter me in the next second I will do something dreadful to, oh - ”

 

Whatever calamity she was threatening me with remained unnamed as Holmes lowered his head to rub the flat of his tongue against her nipple in time with my thrusting fingers. However, I was only too happy to oblige her in this: withdrawing my fingers, I moved to kneel between her splayed legs and then lined up my prick to enter her in a way that was tortuously slow for both of us. She cried out in pleasure at this intrusion, making Holmes hum appreciatively against her skin and I had to stop any movement and collect myself to adjust to the tight, wet heat of her.

 

Finally, however, I began to move, thrusting into her in smooth long strokes with all of my weight resting on my hands on either side of her head. This gave me the opportunity to lean down, now and again, in order to capture her mouth in a panting, open-mouthed kiss as I thrust into her with increasing speed. She brought her legs up and wrapped them around me and for a while there were only the dark blue of her eyes, the tight clench of her internal muscles around me and our joined rhythm, cresting from wave to wave. Then, suddenly, Holmes wormed one of his hands between our bodies, evidently searching for her clitoris and I could tell when he found it by the loud cry Mary gave. Her eyes fell shut again, her breathing hitched and very soon thereafter I felt the contractions of her orgasm all around me as she shuddered her way to her first climax. Should I live to see a hundred, I dare say, I will never forget the wonderfully open and unguarded look my wife wears in the height of passion. It is a singular, almost a sacred sight, and I simply had to bow my head and kiss her sweetly and oh so slowly as her body began to relax under me.

 

No sooner had her hands loosened their bruising grip on my shoulders somewhat that Holmes cleared his throat.

 

“My dear fellow,” he murmured against my ear, his hot breath making me shiver with the delight as it hit the sensitive flesh of my neck, “please allow me.”

 

And oh, how could I have refused? How, indeed, seeing as I am both constitutionally incapable of refusing Holmes anything he asks of me and terribly enamoured of the picture my two lovers make together. Ours, I guess, is a strange kind of love that most of society would regard as depravity but I swear by all that is holy that there is nothing sweeter in the world than the sight of Mary pliant and soft after her first orgasm, being rocked back and forth by Holmes precise and intense thrusts, her fingers curled against my palm.

 

“Oh John, please,” she gasped, turning her head towards me almost blindly, her eyes half closed in pleasure, “kiss me, oh, kiss me!” I was only too happy to oblige, kissing her soundly and deeply, getting lost in the feeling of her lips under mine as Holmes took her gently but inexorably, bringing her to a second climax within a minute or two.

 

“Oh!” She cried out, twisting her head away from me to gasp in great lungfuls of air as her body trembled anew, her hand shooting out to grip Holmes arm bruisingly to still his body against hers. “Out, now!” She commanded, pushing at him and he obligingly withdrew, coming to lie between us.

 

Mary laughed then, and turned to look at us, happy and exhausted. Her hair was plastered to her neck and forehead in becoming little ringlets and her face flushed and shining with perspiration.

 

“My two knights errant,” she said fondly, stretching a hand out to cup first Holmes' cheek and then my own, “what would I do without you? However do all the other married ladies manage who have but one husband to satisfy their needs?” And she leant forward to press a kiss to Holmes' lips which made him blush like a schoolboy.

 

“I am quite sure,” he said, “that Watson would be man enough for you on his own and I will never forget the kindness of either of in - ”

 

But Mary had gestured to me with her eyes, as she tends to do when our friend is in danger of tangling himself in skeins of gratitude and self-doubt, and so I finished that sentence for him by pulling his head around rather roughly and kissing him full on the mouth. For a moment his lips still moved against mine as if he was indeed finishing that sentence but then they began to move in an entirely different way and soon all words were forgotten. We had both followed the gentlemanly course of action of satisfying Mary's desires before our own and now the hard length of his prick was pressed against mine as I devoured his mouth.

 

“Holmes,” I whispered in his ear, after a particularly vigorous bout of kissing, “will you allow me to use my mouth on you?”

 

He shuddered against me in a way that could only be assent and I slid down to take the salty tip of his member into my mouth. Mary, I saw, was watching me over his shoulder, her eyes dark with excitement. Soon however, I closed my eyes, concentrating solely on the feeling of the hot length in my mouth, on the little sounds of pleasure I was drawing from my friend and on obscene stretch of my lips. Fellating a fellow arouses me as very few things do, the act both debauched and strangely innocent, and when Holmes cupped the back of my head with his hand and began to thrust into my mouth, my eyes rolled back in my head. I fumbled for my own prick and found it sensitive and leaking. I ended up frigging myself to a quick and intense completion as Holmes continued to use my mouth and when he gasped and spilled down my throat soon after, I could feel it twitch against my palm.

 

It took us a little while thereafter to clean ourselves and to put the bed back into a state fit for lying on and then we collapsed onto it in a heap of arms and necks and feet, tangled up so closely it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other two began.

 

 _I am_ , I thought, _without a doubt the luckiest man in London, nay, in the world._ And I tightened my arms around the two people most precious to me in all the world and let sleep claim me for a precious few minutes before we had to be up again for a day's work of bringing criminals to justice.


End file.
